1. Hopeless Romantic

HOPELESS ROMANTIC

Fuck, my cheek stings.

I really know how to pick them, don't I?

It's raining as I stand outside of Jameson's apartment building, clutching my phone in my hand thinking of who I should call to help me get out of this situation. My parents are absolutely out of the question, I think I proved to them one too many times that I'm a complete fuckup. The disappointment in their eyes when they realize I'm nearly thirty and still don't have my shit together is too much.

Everything always feels like too much. I thought by now my life would click together, I'd be married with kids and not making the same stupid fucking choices repeatedly.

I would call Aiden, but he's going through so much right now, he doesn't need to add my bullshit on top of that.

I scroll through my phone and land on one of my twin cousin's names.

I call Gavin first, as he's more likely to pick up. Benjamin is a little more aloof, he might answer a text, but definitely not a phone call.

"Hey, Pen," Gavin answers.

"Hey, Gav. Do you think you or Benjamin could pick me up?"

"Totally would, but we're in Atlanta looking at properties this weekend," he says.

"That's right. No worries, I'll just get an Uber or something."

"Everything alright?" Gavin asks.

I have to hold back my tears, because no, everything is not alright, and all I want to do is go home and cry in bed. The thought of getting in a car with a strange man is definitely not what I want to do right now.

"Yeah, everything is fine," I lie, which I'm too good at. Sometimes my stomach sinks when I do it and sometimes it rolls off my tongue easier than a truth ever could.

"I know Aiden is probably at the hospital, but Linc should be home. I mean, you two do live in the same building," he says.

Yes, the building our family owns and I live in as a complete freeloader. It feels like another kick to the chest while I'm already down. I know Gavin has no idea what I'm going through right now, no one does with the way I bottle up all this festering failure, but I really don't want to call Lincoln.

My options are to call my cousin who seems to hate the fucking world, or have some stranger drive me home. I sigh, realizing I have to choose the former.

"Thanks, I'll call Lincoln."

"We'll hang out when we get back, okay?" Gavin says.

I'm closest to my twin cousins, since we're closer in age we grew up doing a lot of the same activities together.

"Sounds good, night."

"Night," he says before hanging up the phone.

No way do I have the balls to call Lincoln, instead I text him.

Hey, sorry to bother you. I know it's getting late, but would you be able to pick me up?

Lincoln

Send me the address

Curt and to the point, that's how Lincoln operates.

If he wasn't walking around, I'd wonder if he had a beating, functioning heart. He wasn't always like this, really only in the last few years has he turned into this angry shell of a man. When we were kids he was always sweet, he never let the twins gang up on me when we played and I appreciate it. I'm not sure what flipped a switch in him, but he's turned into somewhat of a grumpy old man.

I send him the address and I wait and pray that Jameson doesn't come outside. I rub my cheek, wondering if he left a mark. He fucking slapped me when I said I didn't want to have sex with him tonight. I've been with my fair share of shitty men, like Justin, Josh, Jake, and Johnathon. Now that I think about it, I'm one-hundred percent off J names for the future.

It feels like my life is slowly crumbling apart, and I'm not sure how to catch myself. The only positive thing I have going for me is that Aiden gave me a job at his company, but it's not what I see for my future.

I'm not really sure what I want to do career wise.

I have an idea of what I wanted my life to look like by now. I wanted a husband who was obsessed with me, like truly positively in love with me, and I knew I wanted to be a mother. Maybe it made me pathetic that these were my aspirations in life, but it's what I've always wanted.

My therapist says I have major abandonment issues and I'm trying to fill that void with romantic relationships. I know she's right, and we've been trying to work through some of the things holding me back, one of the things is easier said than done. I've tried to gather the courage to look for my birth parents. All I know is that I was left at a church and spent a year in foster care until my parents formally adopted me.

I've been loved deeply by my parents and my extended family, and I know it's a choice to love me. But is it so bad to want that special someone who chooses me completely, not because I was adopted into their family? I don't know why my parents unconditional love never seems to be enough and why I keep jumping head first into these romantic relationships, every time I do I get hurt.

This time I got physically hurt, and I think maybe it's the wake-up call I needed. I've got to make some changes, because what I'm doing clearly isn't working.

I'm on the wrong side of my twenties and I have no clue who I truly am or what I want in life.

The voice behind me startles me and I nearly drop my phone as he speaks.

"Come back inside, Penny. It's raining," Jameson says calmly, like he didn't just slap me a few minutes ago.

"My cousin is coming to pick me up," I reply.

I hope that he turns around and leaves, but of course I'm not that lucky.

"I'm sorry, I lost my temper, I had too much to drink. Just come back inside," he pleads.

You've got to be fucking kidding me. He thinks he can hit me and just apologize and I'll go right back to his apartment and fuck him? He's out of his mind.

He grabs my arm and I flinch, but he's faster and stronger than me.

Thankfully, Lincoln"s white Porsche pulls up at that exact moment. I let out a sigh of relief, but Jameson doesn't let go of my arm.

A car door shuts and I can feel Lincoln"s looming presence behind me.

Lincoln is imposing, and would scare the shit out of any normal person, it seems like Jameson is no exception as he drops his hand and looks up at my tall, broad cousin.

"You good, Pen?" Lincoln asks.

"Yeah, I just want to go home."

Jameson says nothing and we head towards Lincoln"s car. He opens the car door for me and his face finally meets mine.

"Did he do that to your cheek?" he asks, his tone is dark.

"It's fine. I just want to go home," I tell him.

"Okay," he replies.

He shuts my car door and the locks activate, Lincoln doesn't get into the driver"s side. Instead he walks up to Jameson, who is still standing there like an idiot.

I can't hear what words are said between the two, but I do watch in horror as Lincoln slaps Jameson across the face, sending the asshole down to the wet pavement. I slink down into my seat, wrapping my arms around myself.

God, I'm glad he didn't punch him. I don't want him getting in trouble because I was the dumbass who put myself in the crosshairs of another man who didn't give a shit about me.

Lincoln points down at Jameson shouting some words at him, before he calmly walks back to the car, unlocking the vehicle and getting into the driver"s side.

It feels like the air leaves the cabin when his door is shut and he starts the engine. Neither of us are willing to break the silence or talk about what just happened.

He taps his finger in a rhythmic tone against the steering wheel as he drives. He doesn't even put on music to cut some of the tension. I would listen to just about anything besides the deafening silence I'm suffering through in this car.

Alright, he's my cousin. He stood up for me, I've known him all my life. I can very easily speak to this man, right?

"Thank you for picking me up," I say softly and he grunts in acknowledgement. "If it helps, I'm strictly off dating after that. I mean what a fucking asshole. I'm just going to focus on my job at Kemper's and figure out what I want to do next. No more men getting in the way of that."

He makes another noise, but doesn't speak.

Maybe I should have gotten an Uber, it surely wouldn't be as miserable as this.

"How is the new complex coming along?" I ask, trying to change tactics.

"Fine," he replies.

"Sorry I asked," I whisper.

He hears it, of course he hears it.

"Penny, please just shut the fuck up until we get home," he says, his tone even.

I swallow and look out the window and my eyes start to well with emotion.

"Sorry for just trying to have some conversation with you."

He sighs, and pushes his head against the headrest.

"I don't want to talk, because if you keep talking I'll want to turn around and run that fucker over with my car. Do you know how much restraint it took for me to just slap him? God, I wanted to hit him so hard that he would have to be fed through a fucking straw. So please shut up so I can get my shit together, take you home, and go back to my normal everyday life. My life that isn't interrupted with dramatic late night rescues because you can't seem to have any sense of self preservation or any fucking radar when it comes to a man being an absolute piece of shit," he seethes the last words and the car fills with silence once again.

I hold back my tears, because I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt my feelings. Even though there"s no doubt that he knows, he probably just doesn't care.

At least he cares about me enough to want to hurt Jameson, but not enough to worry about how he speaks to me.

He has to know that I'm insecure about what a fuckup I am. That every relationship I'm in becomes my whole personality and I currently feel like a shell of a person with no path.

He's too smart not to know. And I'm too stubborn to give him any satisfaction over it. Instead, I stare out the window while he drives and I think about how exactly I can overcome this affliction of being a hopeless romantic.

We drive past Avalon on our way home, and it feels like a light bulb goes off in my head.

"Avalon looks nice," I say, completely wanting to avoid acknowledging how much Lincoln hurt my feelings, and maybe to piss him off.

"It's pathetic is what it fucking is."

I roll my eyes, taking in the bright sign.

A sex club shouldn't be the sign I've been waiting on for what direction to take in my life, but here it is, beaming brightly in my face.

I need to know who I am outside of a relationship, outside of my family. Exploring this part of myself with no one else fills me with a sense of excitement and liberation.

Some of my sexual desires have been part of the problem in my past relationships—among other deeper issues. I"ve had to suppress some of the things I wanted to explore because my boyfriend at the time didn't feel comfortable with what I wanted. Along with hiding who I really am.

Maybe if I'm able to get sexual gratification anonymously, I can still get laid, but work on myself at the same time. Without sex I know I'll fall for the first guy who buys me a drink and tells me I'm pretty—my standards are in the damn gutter.

I don't think my therapist would agree with this plan, but I definitely don't plan on telling Deb what I'm up to.

No one besides me and the club owner needs to know what I do at Avalon. Maybe there's some way to get a discount based on my interests. I'm trying desperately not to mooch off of my family anymore, and my salary at Kemper's is pretty sad.

This plan has some merit to it. Maybe I won't feel this urge to latch on to a man who gives me attention when I don't know who it is. I can protect my heart and try to figure out who I am in the process.

Lincoln parks his car, and I get out of the passenger"s side and head straight to the elevators. I'm on floor eight and Lincoln is on floor seven. We don't speak as I hit the buttons. The elevator ride is just as stifling as the car ride was, and I take a breath of relief when he gets off on his level.

He doesn't even look at me as he leaves the elevator and heads to his apartment. I feel like I can finally breathe once he's out of my sight and I drag my sorry ass home.

My apartment is far too nice for the salary I make, but our family owns the building, and wanted me to have somewhere safe to live.

I drop my keys off by the front door and look at my face in the mirror above the entry table. There's still some redness on my cheekbone, but it doesn't look too bad.

But then I look at myself, really look at myself, and I hate what I see.

I know I'm beautiful with long honey blonde hair and blue eyes. A simple classic structure to my face, and clear skin. But being beautiful isn't enough to make someone love you, I should know, seeing as I don't even love myself.

I wallow around to my bedroom, just stripping out of my clothes and climbing into my luxurious bed.

Now that I'm alone, I finally let my tears flow freely. I'm not sure what hurts worse, the fact that Jameson physically assaulted me or that Lincoln was able to read all my insecurities so clearly.

All I know is something has got to change before I'm broken for good.